


day by day (tomorrow is found)

by Nakimochiku



Category: Vampire Hunter D
Genre: Volume 16: Tyrant's Stars related character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a tavern somewhere on the frontier, D meets a familiar face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	day by day (tomorrow is found)

If the moon were to bear a single child, into which she poured all her grace, beauty, and solemnity, the figure that had just pushed aside the swinging bar doors was it. The occupants of the tavern went silent, the barmaids swooned simultaneously, the bartender nearly dropped the glass he was wiping. The figure’s cloak rustled, his foot steps were as quiet as a cat’s as he advanced and took a seat on a stool.

Everyone in the tavern could tell at a glance that he was not of this world. But whether he was an angel or a demon remained to be seen.

“Strongest of whatever you got.” A ripple went through the patrons at the steel sound of his voice. They held their breath to hear him speak again. The bartender fumbled, set a glass before the figure and poured firewater into it.

“Holy fucking hell.”

The singular youthful cry broke the bar’s silence. The figure, quietly sipping his firewater as though it were little more than juice, didn’t even turn to regard the young man who had pulled forward. He peered beneath his wide brimmed hat, and blinked in surprise. “It really is you. Fuck, you haven’t aged a single fucking day.”

Now the figure gave him a sidelong glance, setting aside the empty tumbler. “You’ve seen me before?”

The young man grinned, and pushed his ginger hair from his face. Freckles were sprinkled over his nose, his wiry glasses were cracked. Though he wore an earnest expression, he had the build and markers of a frequent brawler. They called him Slowpoke, but the name was no longer tinged with the derision of his childhood. “Guess you wouldn’t remember huh? I was a tyke then anyway.” He received no response. “You let me hit you, once. With a stick. I was showing off then I guess, but you taught me to fight.”

Dark eyes neither lit up with recognition, nor truly seemed to care. Slowpoke flushed, and grinned sheepishly, taking a step back. “I didn’t think I’d see you again, to be honest. Not even when I was old and gray. But...now that I have, I’m gonna say what I didn’t get to then...” He bowed. Everyone in the bar watched with stunned silence. The figure watched, as unaffected as distant stars.  “Even if you don’t remember, thank you! Thank you, Vampire Hunter D!”

There was a moment’s quiet.

“It sounds like I did little more than play with you as a child.” The figure, whose name was more concept than reality, turned to him. Did Slowpoke know how rare that acknowledgement was? He shook his head violently, tossing his ginger curls.

“It was five minutes that changed my life. I still have the stick I fought you with.” He stood straight, expression determined. Here now, the years since D had seen that determination showed their wear. The years the young man had spent practicing every afternoon since he’d stared after D as he left his village showed in the missing bit of his ear, the gruesome  scar trailing down his arm, the mass of weapons in his belt.  “I just need to ask you for one thing.”

Slowpoke waited a moment, then ploughed through D’s silence, meeting his clear dark eyes, a flush of excitement, embarrassment, adrenaline colouring his cheeks. It seemed crazy, now, to ask, but he’d dreamed of a moment like this as he grew from a little boy. So gathering his courage, he stood straight and proud, chest thrown out. “I want to challenge you to a duel.” D didn’t seem to acknowledge the challenge. He tapped his tumbler twice with the tips of his long, elegant fingers, long nails clinking against the cheap crystal, and the bartender hurried to refill it. “I want to measure my strength against you. I want to see if I’ve grown.”

“Many men have wanted the same thing of me.” D said lowly, bringing the drink to his perfect lips. Somewhere behind the crowd, a barmaid swooned again and collapsed against a poker table. “None have survived.”

“I figured as much.” Said the young man, but he didn’t back down.

D finished his drink and stood, leaving a few coins on the counter. Most men would be wobbling after even a single glass of firewater, but D was still poised. He didn’t beckon Slowpoke to follow. He passed through the crowd of rough looking men, silent and beautiful, the young man trailing in his wake. Greasy noses pressed against the window, heads spilled out of the swinging batwing doors to watch the fight. They hummed and grumbled as Slowpoke took up position with a metal staff, feet planted solidly in the packed earth street. D made no move for the long sword on his back.

It was the same stance D taught the young man long ago. And though he had grown older, taller, there was nothing different about this scene, or the one previous. His determination was the same, evident in the furrow of his brow and the firm set of his mouth. D’s calm demeanour was the same, watery moonlight spilling over D’s dark locks and the straight line of his nose.

“Come at me.” D said.

As though waiting for those very words, the youth let out a wild yell then charged, thrusting to D's left. To the bystanders, it looked as though Slowpoke passed right through his body. He whipped around, but just as he lifted his staff to try again, the metal fell apart in two pieces in his hands. He blinked in shock as the metal rolled to D’s feet, where he stood absolutely still. He bent just enough to reach the fallen half of the staff, dark hair flowing over his shoulder like shadows.

“You know what happened, don’t you?” The words rung in Slowpoke’s ears with weight, familiar and painful in their familiarity. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he didn’t try to wipe them as they spilled over his freckled cheeks. “I took a hit to the waist.” D reached out for the other half of the staff, and pressed both halves together. After a moment, he took his hand away, and they stuck in one piece. Slowpoke wept openly as D handed the staff back to him. “Why are you crying? You landed a hit on a Vampire Hunter.”

The words Slowpoke wanted to say stuck in his throat like bones. He wanted to thank the ethereal hunter, he wanted to choke out that D remembered him, some no one kid from some nowhere town after all these years. He wiped his eyes, and managed a grin. Something that might have been the smallest, gentlest smile passed D’s moon pale countenance and the heavenly curve of his mouth. The crowd watched in stunned silence, another barmaid fainted. Perhaps they understood how rarely this beautiful, unearthly man smiled. Slowpoke would recall with pride some day, as an old man, that he made the great Vampire Hunter D smile. Twice.


End file.
